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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248771">Your Name on My Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea'>writeranthea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Football RPF, Political RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Gentle Sex, M/M, One Shot, Paddling, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Secret Relationship, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Tattoos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:53:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before Antoine travelled to Paris to spend the weekend with his secret not-so-secret boyfriend, he'd gotten a new tattoo - one that he desperately wanted to show off. Emmanuel's reaction to it was just the one he'd secretly hoped for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Antoine Griezmann/Emmanuel Macron, Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Name on My Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all.... <em>y'all</em>.... I have no excuse as for why I wrote this. I really don't. Quarantine surely isn't doing me any good :-D Also, there's plot in this one. Why? I have no idea. I literally just needed to write porn. Take it as a... writing exercise xD</p><p>Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.</p><p>A/N: I posted this story on Ao3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Is the placement okay? We can change it if you want to, won’t be a problem.”</em>
</p><p>Tattoos were hardly anything new to Antoine. He had his fair share of them, some more meaningful that others, but he had never really been the person to get a tattoo on a whim. They would, after all, stay in his skin for the rest of his life unless he would decide to get them removed, so he usually thought about what he wanted to get before he would drop a message to his tattoo artist of his choice. It was thanks to his name that he’d always be given an appointment within a few days.</p><p>
  <em>“I want it just like that. No, we’ll do it.” </em>
</p><p>It hadn’t been his plan to get another tattoo so soon. The tattoos on his fingers had healed a few days ago and after the healing process had turned out to be torturous, Antoine had decided that he’d be taking a break from getting any more ink. While he had decided to do so rather begrudgingly, Emmanuel seemed to be quite happy with it. “You’re too impulsively,” his boyfriend had told him during one of their late-night phone calls, “I fear that you’ll end up regretting them all.”</p><p>Him, impulsive? Ha as if! With people like Sergio Ramos out and about, who were ready to get pretty thing they stumbled over inked on whatever free patch of skin they still had available, Antoine definitely wasn’t impulsive. He’d known better than to try and throw any backtalk at his boyfriend, though, even if his cock would stir every time that Emmanuel’s voice gained its rough edge, and had merely decided for himself that he wasn’t impulsive. He’d managed to tell and convince himself of it until he had accompanied Leo to his tattoo appointment the Thursday before he’d been due to fly to Paris and spend the weekend with his secret not-so-secret boyfriend.</p><p>“I’m seriously amazed that there are no entries on your Wikipedia pages,” Leo had told him when they had collected the snack that the Argentine would need for his session with the tattoo artist. “You can’t tell me that you’re really hiding it.”</p><p>Antoine had rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, “It’s 2020. The president of France coming out as gay would hardly be a matter. Okay, maybe it would matter. A bit. But not that much.”</p><p>“I can already hear the wedding bells ringing... Oh, and maybe I should write an article?”</p><p>“The last time I checked you and Ronaldo have articles on each other’s pages since 2010, Leo.” The short man’s cheeks had flared up and Antoine had nudged him in the side, the established archenemies had kept their relationship hidden for three years until they had made it public on the same day that Ronaldo’s transfer had been a done deal. “How is he, anyway?”</p><p>“Good,” Leo had said, smiling an honest smile at him, “he’s missing me and I’m missing him, like always. How’s your man?”</p><p><em>His man</em>. It had been said so casually that Antoine had been positively stunned, though it had been thanks to the tan he had gained that his friend had not noticed it. God, it would’ve been a lie it he would’ve said that he had not yearned for his relationship to be like Cressi, as the media had since titled the former enemies. Leo and Cris went on public holidays together, had shared appartments in both Barcelona and Turin and were due to marry by the end of the year. Their Instagram accounts were full of photos, depicting them and Junior and it was no longer a newsworthy scandal if Ronaldo would leave a row of heart emojis unter Leo’s most recent photo. Antoine feared that he’d never be able to do the same, not even after Emmanuel’s term would be over with. “He’s fine,” he had managed to bring out with just the slightest of squeak in his voice.</p><p>Thankfully, Leo had decided to not commented on it and they had kept the topic of their boyfriends aside when they had entered the tattoo studio. The high-end studio was the one that not only Leo, but Antoine and the majority of Spain’s tattooed footballers visited on a regular basis, as they did exceptionally good work while being utmost discreet about their clients. Antoine had claimed one of the free chairs while Leo and Rosa, one of the residing tattoo artists, had gone over the final draft.</p><p>“It’s perfect. God, I already love it.”</p><p>The woman had laughed, had shut the case of her iPad and had walked over to the curtain that had seperated the lounge area from the working space, holding it aside for Leo and Antoine to walk inside.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Are you here for an appointment as well?”</p><p>“No no, I just came for emotional support.”</p><p>“Well then,” the tattoo artist had clapped her hand together, “we’ll take the measurements and then I’ll print the stencil out, alright?”</p><p>Leo had nodded with a smile and had begun to open the fly of his pants while Rosa had brought out a chair for Antoine to sit in beside the tattoo chair, “There you go.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Antoine had plopped down onto the chair, holding the various snacks they had bough in his arms, to watch how Rosa had measured and shaved the side of Leo’s left thigh. He had whistled through his teeth at the size of the stencil, “That’s huge.”</p><p>Leo had snorted a laugh, “Isn’t it?” The Barcelona-themed piece had been large enough to take up the majority of the Argentine’s thigh, but it had been so <em>Leo</em> that Antoine felt himself getting excited for it as well. “And?”</p><p>He had snapped back out of his thoughts when Leo had come to stand in front of him, showing off the drying stencil. “It looks incredible,” Antoine had said, mustering a smile. “Does Ronaldo know you’re getting another tattoo?”</p><p>Leo had thrown his head back in laughter, “Of course I told him, or he’d have an actual heart attack and take the night flight to Barça if I’d post an Instagram story without wearing any trousers.”</p><p>“Couldn’t blame him if he did.”</p><p>“Me neither.”</p><p>The routine that had set in had been one that both footballers had been well familiar with. Leo had climbed onto the tattoo chair, had rolled over onto his side to enable Rosa to position him like she had desired it and had plucked it one of his AirPods when the needle had first touched his skin. Said first touch had been what had gotten Antoine addicted to it: the certainty that there was no going back, as the first line was being drawn, and the slowly setting in adrenaline rush. Leo had taken the first two hours like the champion he was but when he had reached out and had grabbed Antoine’s hand - Antoine had offered it to him at an earlier point - it had been clear that he had begun to feel increasingly uncomfortable. While he himself did not have any tattoos on his legs, it was out of the question that the inside of the thighs were torturous. He had barely managed to suppress a shudder at the memory of Emmanuel leaving an entire array of bruises on said sensitive skin the last time they had been together and as if his boyfriend had read his mind, his phone had buzzed with the notification from a new message.</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[What are you doing, baby?]</p><p>Antoine had not let go of Leo’s hand as he had typed his reply, [I’m with Leo]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[Oh yes, you mentioned that.]</p><p>Rosa had suggested a break and Leo, with a pale face, had agreed. Antoine had set his phone aside without answering to Emmanuel’s last text and had opened the bag of Haribos to offer it to his friend, who had picked out a twin cherry with a rather unsteady hand, “Thanks.”</p><p>As far as Antoine could have judged, three quarters about the outline had been done. That Leo would not get the shading done on the same day had been self-evident. “You okay?”</p><p>Leo had gained a bit more colour after he had eaten another handful of gummy bears and had drunk half of the Coke Zero they had bought earlier. Rosa had returned from her own break, inspecting her handiwork with a nod, “Another hour and we should be done.”</p><p>“Thank God.”</p><p>The tattoo artist had laughed at Leo’s muttered words, “That spot’s a bitch, isn’t it?”</p><p>“The biggest one.”</p><p>She had patted his knee, “You’re sitting like a champ, though.”</p><p>“I’m trying.”</p><p>“I once had a 130kg bodybuilder fainting in my chair from a wrist tattoo so you’re doing really good, Leo.” The Argentine forward had laid back down into the chair, Antoine had allowed his hand to be taken again and he and Leo had engaged into a loose conversation, which had caused the next hour to downright fly past them. Rosa had cleaned the tattoo and put the gel lotion on top of it before wrapping it with second skin. “You know the drill. Keep it on for five to seven days, then remove it under warm water.” She had pulled the surgical gloves off her hands, had thrown them into the bin and had frozen when she had been about to turn around, her gaze fixed on the clock, “We’ve finished over an hour earlier.”</p><p>“We did?”</p><p>“Do you... have any small tattoo that you want to get done? I mean it’s your slot, you booked it.”</p><p>Leo had shaken his head, “You?”</p><p>Antoine had looked up from his phone, “Hm?”</p><p>“Do you want to get anything done?”</p><p>The question had stunned him more than he would’ve though it could and he had opened and closed his mouth for a few time before he had nodded. It had been as if his body had decided without consulting his mind first and a wave of something had washed over him when he had suddenly known just what it would be that he’d get tattooed. He had struggled a bit to get his iPhone out of its case, bu had eventually managed to retrieve the piece of paper that he had stowed in it. His face must’ve been burning brightly as he had shown it to the tattoo artist, who had shot him a knowing grin in return. “Could you... do it in his handwriting?”</p><p>She had laughed, “Sure, that won’t be a problem.”</p><p>“What are you getting?”</p><p>Leo had snored when she had turned the piece of paper around to show him, “At least it’s not his name.”</p><p>“I’m not that stupid.”</p><p>Antoine had failed to duck away before Leo’s hand had shot out to ruffle through his hair, “Dork.”</p><p>“Idiot.”</p><p>While Rosa had worked on scanning the paper and preparing for it to be printed as a stencile, he had felt himself growing increasingly nervous. He had carried said piece of paper with him for a couple of months, actually, but why he had suddenly decided to get it tattooed on his skin had not been something that he could’ve explained. “Where do you want it to go?”</p><p>“Uh I... I though that it could...” he had trailed off, raising from the chair to walk over to Rosa, “like... the top of my...”, and vaguely pointing at the upper area of his backside. Not high enough to reach to the dip of his smaller back, rather just at the very top of his ass.</p><p>Rosa had laughed and had patted his forearm, “We can do that. I’ll print out a few so you can decide on the size that you want.”</p><p>“Okay, thanks.”</p><p>Leo had slipped into his sweatpants, balling up his jeans to put them into his back. “That’s kinky,” the Argentine had said with a grin, “and I kinda wish that I could see his face when you show it to him.”</p><p>Antoine’s throat had felt rather dry.<em> You have no idea how fucking excited I am</em>. “I’ll tell you how it went.”</p><p>“Of course you will.”</p><p>He had been shown a few exemplary stencils and it would’ve been a lie if he would’ve said that his heart had not somersaulted at the sight of Emmanuel’s handwriting, ready to be transferred onto his skin. Antoine had stared at the couple of stencils, which sized had varied by no more than a few centimeters each, rather helplessly for a few moments until he had given himself a mental push and had picked the one which had been about four centimeter long. Small enough for it to not be photographed over a larger distance - on the pitch, though Antoine had been certain that he had felt his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of it standing out on his pale skin and Emmanuel’s thumb stroking over it while they would be in bed together...</p><p>“This one,” he had breathed, unable to meet the tattoo artist’s gaze once he had picked up the chosen stencil.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll get everything ready and you can... lose your trousers.” They had all shared a laugh, though Antoine’s cheeks had been decidedly blushed pink by the time that he had begun to open the fly of his jeans, tugging them, and his underwear, down just enough for the very top of his backside to be exposed. There had been no going back, and he had been <em>thrilled</em>. His heart had raced when he had moved to stand in front of the large mirror. Rosa had shaved the spot, applied the skin glue and Antoine’s breath had caught in his throat when she had placed the stencil and had pressed down to get it to stick to his skin for a couple of seconds before pulling it off. “Is the placement okay? We can change it if you want to, won’t be a problem.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Antoine had turned a bit to inspect the stencil. There it had been. Emmanuel’s handwriting on the top of his left ass cheek, waiting to be perpetuated on his skin. “I want it just like that,” he had finally said, nodding zestfully. “No, we’ll do it.”</p><p>“Great, I’ll get everything done.”</p><p>“Toni?”</p><p>“Hm?” Leo’s eyes had been glistering with mischief when he had pulled out his phone, “Leo, <em>no</em>.”</p><p>“Come on, it’s just for the group chat.”</p><p>Well aware that his friend never would have forced him, Antoine had rolled his eyes and had turned around with an exaggerated move, “Do what you have to do. Quel genre d'amis ai-je!” He had stayed still until Leo had taken his photo and had only climbed onto the table at Leo’s satisfied chuckle, laying down onto his front. The tattoo itself had been about the quickest and least painfully one he had experienced so far. In fact, Antoine had almost dozed off during the fifteen minutes that it had taken Rosa to finish the lettering.</p><p>“That’s it.”</p><p>“That’s it?”</p><p>The tattoo artist had laughed, “Yes, that’s it. Less torturous those on your fingers, right?”</p><p>“<em>Everything</em> was less torturous.” The newly tattooed patch of skin had been cleaned and covered in the second-skin-foil and Antoine had been somewhat disappointed hat he had barely felt it. He had grinned like mad when he had realised that he had gotten <em>Emmanuel’s handwriting</em> tattooed on his skin.</p><p>“Ugh you’re blinding me with your smile,” Leo had laughed, pretending to be shielding his eyes as they had exited the tattoo studio and had stepped out into city of Barcelona, which had been decidedly too warm for March.</p><p>Antoine had snorted a laugh, though had sobered when he had noticed tha Leo had been limping. He had hoped that there had not been any paparazzi nearby, or the headlines would have been predictable, “How’s your leg doing?”</p><p>“It’ll be fine for training on Monday.”</p><p>They had not parked far from the tattoo studio and the two Blaugranas had talked for a few more minutes until they had parted, each getting into their own car. Antoine had sighed, had turned on the aircon and had pulled out his phone to connect it to the speakers, though had ended up nearly throwing it onto the passenger’s seat with a burning face.</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[That’s your second strike, Antoine. You know what happens when you’re on your third.]</p><p>He had read Emmanuel’s text yet again, the blush on his face so intense that he had felt his cheeks throbbing with every beat of his heart. They had been far from the kinkiest couple out there. Sure, Antoine liked to call his boyfriend <em>daddy</em> when they’d role play and they had their rules and their three-strikes-system, but he vehemently refused to title their relationship as a fetish one. He loved Emmanuel’s vanilla side just as much. One of their rules, however, was that he never ought to leave Emmanuel on read and he had clenched his jaw when he had realised that he had managed to get two strikes in a day after he had snapped at him on the phone the day before. Considering that he’d only get to see Emmanuel for two days, Antoine had, initially, not been all that eager to reach the third strikes and thus be punished, but his bratty side had been ecstatic about it. <em>He had gotten a tattoo.</em> Without telling his boyfriend first and given the nature of the tattoo, Antoine had been certain that he had easily surpassed the third strike by a mile.</p><p>Antoine had connected his phone with the car’s radio, had selected one of his playlists and had only then clicked on Emmanuel’s chat. The grin on his face must’ve been ridiculously wide.</p><p>[I’m sorry ☹️], he had typed, [Please don’t be mad at me daddy 🥺❤️]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[Then don’t be a brat and behave yourself, baby. I love you.]</p><p>[Love you too!]</p><p>༻✦༺</p><p>And then, not even twenty-four hours later, Antoine was standing outside a terminal at Paris-Charles De Gaulle airport and waiting for the chauffeur Emmanuel had organised to pick him up. He was positively jittery to see him again. They had texted and face-timed each other daily, but it had not even come close to the feeling of falling asleep and waking up in Emmanuel’s arms. God, how he missed him. Pulling the hood a bit further into his face Antoine continued to scroll through Instagram, refreshing it for the dozenth time. He actually snickered when he saw that Leo posted yet another photo of him and Cristiano. They were sitting on what looked like a loveseat bench in the outside area of a café, one of the Portuguese’s hand was resting on Leo’s thigh and they seemed so genuinly <em>happy</em> as they smiled into the camera that Antoine felt a stab of jealousy. Before he could’ve lost himself in his wishful thinking a black Mercedes S-Class rolled to a halt in front of him. He stowed his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and took a tentative step forward.</p><p>The chauffeur got out of the driver’s seat and moved around the limousine to open the suicide door for him, greeting him with a subtile bow, “Good evening, Monsieur.”</p><p>“Good evening,” Antoine retorted and allowed the chauffeur to take his suitcase and stash it in the trunk while he sat down in back seat. His stomach was a pit of nervousness and anticipatiton, and his phone vibrated just after the chauffeur had set the blinker and had pulled out of the parking lot.</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[Are you in the car?]</p><p>It was a rather unnecessary question, as Antoine was certain that the chauffeur had notified Emmanuel before he had gotten out of the car, but the young Frenchman appreciated it anyway.</p><p>[Yes, just got in.]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[I’ll be with you around 6, baby.]</p><p>A quick look at the time told him that he’d have about an hour and a half once he would arrive at the Palais de l'Élysée and if he wouldn’t have been dying to show Emmanuel the new tattoo, ninety minutes of waiting wouldn’t have been such bad news.</p><p>[Ok ☹️]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[I’m sorry baby, but the telephone conference is taking a bit longer.]</p><p>[Okay...]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[I’ll make it up to you, baby.]</p><p>[I hope 😢]</p><p><em>Emmanuel: </em>[Brat!]</p><p>[Your brat 😋]</p><p>“Did you have a comfortable flight, Monsieur?” the chauffeur asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror.</p><p>Antoine nodded, “Yes, it went rather well.” The somewhat awkward conversation ceased after that and it was only after the chauffeur had parked the lumousine on the hidden parking lot of the palace that he spoke again.</p><p>“Would it be alright for me to ask you for an autograph, Monsieur? My daughter loves football and...”</p><p>“Sure!” The chauffeur smiled thankfully at him as he passed Antoine a piece of paper and a pen. “What’s your daughter’s name?”</p><p>“Edith.” He scribbled a quick note and his signature before he gave the paper, and a tip, back to the chauffeur. “Thank you very much, Monsieur. My daughter will be very happy.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Antoine pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head as he got out of the car. The chanced of him being photographed here were rather low, thanks to the immensely high level of security around the president of France’s residence, but the rumours about them and their possible relationship were already high enough after Emmanuel nearly kissed him right in front of the cameras after France’s World Cup victory. He entered the palace through the back entrance and stole himself away to the third floor, where Emmanuel’s apartment was located. When he had visited it the first time, Antoine had felt slightly overwhelmed. The palace interior’s was magnificent and while he, as a world-class football player, was familiar with extravagance, the president’s apartment was <em>a lot.</em> He had since grown to like the Rococo interior, though. Especially the king-sized bed, which made it possible for Emmanuel to fuck him while he was bent over it.</p><p>No staff member greeted him when he closed the entrance door behind him and Antoine kicked his shoes off with a grin, his excitement skyrocketing as he felt at he second skin that was glued over his newest tattoo. <em>He couldn’t wait.</em> He passed through the entrance area and right into the bedroom, heaved his suitcase onto a nearby canapé and plopped down onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh and his phone in his hand. After sending a quick message into the group chat, stating that he’d arrived safely, he rolled over onto his stomach, opened Netflix and chose one of the series with the hour-long episodes. Antoine failed to actually concentrate on the episode of Versailles, though. The only thing that stood on his mind was Emmanuel and whatever the evening would bring for them. <em>What he hoped for... </em>When yet another sex scene between Philippe and the Chevalier came up, he eventually did get engrossed so much that he didn’t hear how the entrance door was opened and closed. Neither did he stirr at the sound of heels clicking against the polished wooden floor.</p><p>Antoine gasped when he caught a sight of a person coming to lean against the door frame. Emmanuel was dressed in one of his dark blue suits and had his arms loosely crossed in front of his chest as he watched Antoine with so much <em>adoration</em> in his eyes that the younger man felt his throat closing up. With a gasp of Emmanuel’s name he scrambled to get off the bed and downright jumped into the embrace that was offered to him, wrapping his arms around the older man’s upper body as if he feared that he might leave. “I missed you,” Antoine whispered, swallowing hard as a wave of mixed emotions came crashing onto him.</p><p>“And I missed you, baby,” Emmanuel said with an equally low voice, caressing Antoine’s luscious curls with one hand. “Give me a kiss, love.” Laughing, Antoine pulled back and allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss that quickly intensified. Emmanuel’s free hand found their way to his ass just as quickly, “Two strikes, baby? Tsk, you’re so naughty.”</p><p>“I’m not naughty,” he chirped with the sweetest tone he could’ve mustered, “and two strikes aren’t <em>three</em>, daddy.” He gasped and arched against Emmanuel when his ass was squeezed quite harshly.</p><p>“I believe that you’re in need of another lesson over my knee.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Antoine pouted, already fully emerged into their game, “I didn’t get a third strike, daddy.”</p><p>“No, indeed you didn’t. But I have a feeling that you’ll be getting it tonight, baby.”</p><p>“No daddy. I’ll be good, I promise.” In truth, he was after getting said strike. And the punishment that would follow it.</p><p>Emmanuel hummed and kissed a spot low on his neck, slowly moving them into the direction of the bed, “Mhm, show daddy how good you are, baby.” It was the hint he waited for and when his heart somersaulted, it was due to excitement rather than nervousness. He’d gotten naked in front of Emmanuel too many times, and he had nothing to be ashamed of. With a grin on his face he pulled his hoodie off and dumped it onto the floor before he turned around and began to unbutton his jeans. His heart somersaulted yet again as he moved to tug his trousers down. Emmanuel’s reaction followed immediately. Antoine was grabbed by his upper arm and pulled back, probably so that the older man was able to inspect the tattoo closer, “What is this.” Emmanuel’s voice was <em>dripping</em> with authority and low enough to make the younger man shiver as he drawled out his words.</p><p>Since the other couldn’t see his face, Antoine allowed himself to grin quite smugly, “What is <em>what</em>, daddy?” When the other didn’t answer right away, he turned his head. Emmanuel was staring at the tattoo, not moving for a good few seconds until he suddenly did. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he drew the younger man close and practically threw him over his lap. Antoine’s upper body landed on the mattress and he gasped at the suddenness of it, though his face was still split by a grin. “It’s your handwriting, daddy,” he said, shifting to be able to look at Emmanuel, whose cheeks had since gained a soft pink hue, “do you like it?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Emmanuel merely hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear and tugged them down until they came to rest around the footballer’s knees. Antoine’s hopes of Emmanuel breaking out of his role was unfounded. The older man’s voice seemed untouched by whatever it was that he felt at the moment. “What did I tell you?” Emmanuel asked, grabbing Antoine’s waist and pulling him closer against his stomach before he clasped the leg that Antoine wasn’t bent across over the younger man’s to keep him firmly fixed in position.</p><p>“Daddy-”</p><p>He was cut of with a sharp smack onto his upturned ass, “<em>What did I tell you?</em>”</p><p>“A-About what, daddy?”</p><p>Antoine knew what Emmanuel had meant, of course, and his cheekiness earned him two smacks. Both were hard enough to make him gasp aloud. “About getting any more tattoos, <em>Antoine</em>.”</p><p>With the certainty that they had both fully emerged into their roles, Antoine whined and wriggled in a faked attempt to break free from Emmanuel’s hold. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He was hit yet again before he felt the other moving above him and he turned his head to catch a sight of Emmanuel freeing himself of his suit jacket. Antoine’s face heated up when Emmanuel unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt while never taking his eyes off of him.</p><p>“I should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to behave yourself,” the older man said, his voice still cool and controlled and Antoine’s head snapped back around when the hand on his waist returned, pulling him firmly against Emmanuel’s stomach again. “You’re in for a spanking, baby.”</p><p>“Daddy-”</p><p>“And by a <em>spanking</em>,” Emmanuel went on, accentuating his words with sharp smacks, “I mean a <em>proper</em> punishment. <em>Not</em> a few mere <em>pats</em> on your ass and a <em>nice</em> <em>little</em> <em>cuddle</em>, but a <em>spanking</em> that’ll make you <em>cry</em> yourself to <em>sleep</em> afterwards.”</p><p><em>Oh fuck!</em> Antoine barely managed to suppress the moan that crept up his throat, he’d never ever get tired of hearing his boyfriend speak to him like that, “But...”</p><p>“No <em>buts</em>,” he was cut off anew when the older man began to spank him with a quick-paced and experienced rhythm, “you’ve been naughty for a few days now, Antoine. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed.” Smack after smack, alternating between the cheeks, was delivered onto his upturned backside. “You’ve been mouthing off to me on the phone,” Emmanuel said, his hand never faltering, “you’ve been ignoring my messages and if I wouldn’t know better, I would say that you’ve been provocating this. Such a naughty boy.”</p><p>“Daddy-”</p><p>“Hush!”</p><p>Antoine was spanked in silence for a good few minutes. He wriggled and whined, kicked and whimpered but Emmanuel kept a steady hold on him the entire time. It was mind-blowingly hot and it wasn’t long until he was fully hard, his cock brushing against the fabric of Emmanuel’s trousers every time his body was rocked forwards by the strength of the smacks, “Daddy-”</p><p>“You are <em>unbelievable</em>,” the older man snapped, accentuating each word with even harder smacks, “I wanted to spend a nice weekend with here you but here we are instead, with you over my knee and about to be a <em>very</em> sorry and <em>very</em> sore little boy.”</p><p>Since Antoine felt Emmanuel’s hard-on pressing into his side he knew that his boyfriend was as engrossed in their game as he himself was, and so he didn’t think twice before he turned his most bratty side out, “You don’t have to,” he huffed out with a pout.</p><p>“<em>Excuse me?</em>”</p><p>“You don’t <em>have</em> to punish me, it’s your <em>choi</em>-<em>ow!</em>”</p><p>Emmanuel raised the leg he was bent over and lowered the other, thus exposing the sensitive crease of his ass which would carry his weight when he’d sit down, “Oh you’re in for it today, boy.”</p><p>The yelp that escaped Antoine when a volley of sharp hits was delivered onto the sensitive skin was an honest one and while he wasn’t close to tears by the time that the leg was lowered again a minute or so later, his breath was positively ragged and his hands were clutching at the bedspread. His ass was throbbing and burning, sending waves of pleasure straight to his cock. “Daddy...”</p><p>“Get up.” He obeyed and raised onto quite unsteady legs, somewhat disappointed with what he believed to have been the end of their session. His ass probably wasn’t even a shade of red yet. Before he could’ve complained about it other than with a pout, he was grabbed by the arm and walked into a nearby corner, “Ten minutes.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Do <em>not</em> test me today!” Antoine gasped from both the impact of Emmanuel’s hand as well as his words. It didn’t happen all that often that the other went into <em>such</em> a dominant role. He lowered his head until his chin nearly touched his chest, well aware that he was being watched. Shifting his weight from leg to leg, he noticed something clenching in his lower stomach at the feeling of Emmanuel’s gaze burning on his neck. It would only be afterwards that he would recognise it as his drop into submission. He tried not to listen as the older man walked around in the room behind him, opened a drawer, rumaged through it and closed it again. “Don’t!” he was scolded when he tried to rub at his sore skin. His head dropped even lower. “Aw baby,” Emmanuel said, coming to stand behind him and his heart soared when his curls were being combed through, “you want to be my good little boy, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes daddy.” He bit down onto his bottom lip when the hand disappeared again and Emmanuel walked off. Even the tiniest of praise was enough to make his stomach flutter.</p><p>“I want you to be my good little boy, baby. But you’ve been terribly naughty and I’ll have to punish you before you can be good again.”</p><p>“Daddy-”</p><p>“Seven more minutes, baby.” Huffing in disagreement, he stomped his foot and shook his head. “And you just earned yourself a round with the brush, you naughty little brat.”</p><p>Antoine’s heart dropped. While a spanking with Emmanuel’s hand hurt, it was pretty much bearable and rarely brought him to the edge of his tears or any bruises to his ass. The <em>brush</em> however, was an entirely different story. It never failed to make him cry and struggle with sitting down for a couple of days. The prospect of getting the brush made his cock twitch and his eyes tingle at the same time. He was already an utter mess. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I-I’m sorry, daddy.”</p><p>The fact that Emmanuel didn’t answer only forced more tears into his eyes and the following minutes were torturous, each second passing by unbearably slowly. It was a definite relief when he was called, “Come here.” Antoine turned around, swallowing at the sight of Emmanuel beckoning him over with gesture of his finger. He looked so hot, with his rolled-up sleeves and his spread-apart thighs. Not to mention the look of dominance that stood on his face. His trousers and underwear slipped down to his feet as he shuffled out of his corner and towards Emmanuel, keeping his gaze fixed onto the ground. “Look at me, baby.” Emmanuel took him by the wrist as soon as he got close enough, pulled him between his legs and kept him there for a few moments. Antoine obeyed rather reluctantly and the look on the older man’s face softened a bit. “I know that you’re a brat, baby,” Emmanuel said with a gentle tone, “and I know that you need a lesson over my knee every now and then like every brat does.” He squeezed Antoine’s wrists, “I’ll give you forty with the brush.” The younger frenchman swallowed hard. Forty would be hard to take and while one part of him feared it, the other was yearning for it. The pain, the release and the comfort that would follow. “Do you remember your safeword, baby?”</p><p>“Barça,” came his whispered answer.</p><p>Emmanuel smiled, “Very good, baby,” and patted his ass once, “come on, back over my knee you go.” With a sniffle, Antoine didn’t struggle when he was pulled into position once again. His upper body rested on the mattress, his legs stretched out behind him and kept in place by Emmanuel’s right leg. He heard a soft chuckle from above him when he hid his face in his crossed arms, and a hand ruffled through his curls. “You need this, don’t you baby?” Muttering his answer into the crook of his elbow, Antoine hoped that it would be heard and accepted. The smack it earned him told him that it failed on the latter part, “A proper answer, baby.”</p><p>Antoine’s face burned from both, embarrassment and arousal, “Yes daddy.”</p><p>“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His ass was patted, “I wanted to let you off with one round over my knee, baby. But you misbehaved during corner time, so I’ll spank you with my hand before you’ll get the brush.”</p><p>Unable to speak due to the lump in his throat, he nodded and pressed his face further into his arms. A gasp escaped him when Emmanuel resumed to spank him as precisely as ever, staring the round at the top of his ass, alternating between the cheeks and stopping at his sit spots. His hand never faltered, and neither did he seem to miss his target a single time. Antoine gasped and wriggled once the burning intensified on his already sore skin, though the hand on his waist which pulled him firmly against Emmanuel’s stomach soon put an end to his antics, “Daddy-”</p><p>“I planned to have a nice evening with you,” Emmanuel chided and the dominance that his voice was laced with seeped right into Antoine’s bones, making him shiver and his cock twitch where it was pressed into the strong thigh. “We would’ve ordered food and I would’ve allowed you to pick a movie that we would’ve watched, but <em>you</em> chose to be a naughty brat instead.” A particularly harsh couple of smacks landed on the back of his thighs and Antoine’s breath hitched, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “Maybe I should spank you every time that we see each other, hm? So that you’re well-behaved when you’re alone in Barcelona?”</p><p>He gasped and shook his head, “N-No, daddy,” squeezing his eyes shut when he felt them filling up. Emmanuel spanked him with his hand for what could have been another minute or so. It left him wiping at his eyes by the time that the older man’s hand came to rest on his burning backside. Emmanuel gave it a rough squeeze and Antoine knew what was coming when he felt him shifting. The younger man still jumped when the cool back of the wooden brush was tapped against his upturned ass in a silent announcement - and indeed, Emmanuel didn’t say another word before he brought it down with proper strength, the <em>thwack</em> resounding loudly throughout the bedroom. The second, third and fourth hit followed in quick succession, stunning the young frenchman so much that he only cried out by the time that the brush came in contact with his backside for the fifth time. The spanking paused at that and Antoine felt Emmanuel’s hand on his trembling back. Keeping him grounded, comforting him at the same time.</p><p>“That’s my good boy coming back, isn’t it?” He barely registered the short break, though, for he was too preoccupied with controlling his breathing. Emmanuel’s hand withdrew soon after to take him by the waist again and Antoine’s body tensed when the brush was lifted into the air, “Thirty-five more, baby. I know that you can take them for me.” The paddling resumed with unchanged strength, the hits being concentrated on the more fleshier parts of his ass and Antoine managed to stay stoic for a couple of hits before he broke at the tenth with a choked sob. Emmanuel paused yet again. He brought a hand up into Antoine’s curls, less to stroke them than to keep him grounded while the first tears escaped him. The pain from the brush was absolutely unmatched by the sting Emmanuel’s hand caused. “That’s it, baby,” the older man said, his voice low and gentle in a stark difference to his arm, “you’re being so good right now.”</p><p>“Daddy,” Antoine merely sobbed, making a halfhearted attempt to push himself off Emmanuel’s lap.</p><p>“No, baby.” He was pushed back down by a hand in the small of his back, “Your punishment is not over yet.”</p><p>“B-But-” The brush came crashing down again, successfully cutting him off.</p><p>Emmanuel switched back into his disciplinarian mindset. “No buts,” he scolded, “you were naughty and you have to be punished for it.” <em>Thwack, smack, thwack, whack.</em> “Naughty boy.”</p><p>Antoine soon began to cry out with every individual hit, certain that he wouldn’t sit down for a week. “Da-addy - <em>ow!</em> - daddy stop - ah! - I’m so-<em>ow!</em>-orry,” he cried and they were halfway through when he couldn’t keep himself controlled any more. He threw a hand back, palm up, to shield his backside, but Emmanuel easily caught it and pinned it to the small of his back without faltering in his rhythm.</p><p>“You <em>do not</em> snap at me on the phone, you<em> do not</em> ignore my messages and you <em>do not</em> lie to me! <em>Do you understand?</em>”</p><p>“Ye-es daddy, I-I-”</p><p>“You what?”</p><p>He noticed the leg underneath his waist raising again but barely had time to process it before the brush smacked down across his sit spots. He cried out, even louder than he’d done it before, and pressed his face into the mattress as his sobs grew in volume. “I’m sorry,” he managed to bring out, “I-I’m so-orry.”</p><p>Emmanuel hummed approvingly, “Every naughty boy turns out to be sorry once he’s bent over his daddy’s knee for a spanking, hm?” He stroked the burning cheeks in front of him, “Yes, that’s how it goes every time. Maybe I should keep a bit of ginger ready when you visit me again, hm? What do you say, baby? If you’ll continue to behave so badly you won’t give me another choice.” Antoine shook his head, his breath hitching. They hadn’t tried figging yet but from what he’d read and seen, it’s a <em>hellish</em> punishment. “No?” Emmanuel clicked his tongue and laughed, a soft, gentle sound. “That’s what I thought, baby. You’re not bad, are you? You’re just naughty if I’m not there to keep in check.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” Twisting his neck to look up at his boyfriend, Antoine tried to put on the most imploring look he only could’ve mustered and tried to pull his wrist free from where it was being held in the small of his back, “I-Is it over, daddy?”</p><p>The older man cocked an eyebrow, “It’ll be ten more if you ask me that again.” Antoine’s answer came in form of a sob when the brush was applied with brisk smacks. Emmanuel was using less strength for the last quarter of the hits, as the bottom that was bent over his lap was already throbbing with a dark red and he didn’t have any aspirations to break the skin. Antoine sobbed into the mattress, his free hand clutching at the bedspread. “Let it out, baby, let it all out. You’ll be my good boy again, won’t you? The one that I love so much?” With one last smack that spread over both of Antoine’s backside cheeks, the spanking was finished and Emmanuel discarded the brush onto the bed beside him to then run soothing circles over the reddened skin, allowing him to continue crying for a short while. “You did so good, baby, so good,” Emmanuel whispered and let go of Antoine’s wrist to bury his fingers in those soft, luscious blond curls.</p><p>The younger man arched into the soothing touch and bit his lip when his cock stirred, never having lost interest during the course of their session, “Daddy...”</p><p>“What is it, my little prince?” Unable to speak it out, Antoine arched his hips a bit higher to push his sore ass into Emmanuel’s palm. Emmanuel laughed and grazed the crease of Antoine’s ass with his fingers, “Are you up for it, baby?”</p><p>“Ple-ease. I need you, daddy.” </p><p>He gasped at the first feeling of Emmanuel’s thumb brushing over his puckered hole. “Come on, let’s get you on the bed first,” the older man muttered as he clasped an arm around Antoine’s waist to lift him off his leg, pulling off Antoine’s shoes and lower garments before he hurried to undress himself. Antoine watched, with tear-filled and wanton eyes, how Emmanuel unbuttoned his white dress shirt, shrugged it off and carelessly allowed it to land on the floor before his hands moved to the buckle of his belt. He surely would’ve liked to roll over onto his back to get a better look at him, but with his backside throbbing painfully he didn’t even <em>think</em> about doing so. Emmanuel didn’t take his eyes off him as he pulled the belt through the loops and folded it. Their gazes met for a short moment. “Another time,” the older man said and put the belt aside.</p><p>Antoine’s stomach flipped at the promise. He couldn’t help himself but to whimper by the time that Emmanuel had freed himself of his dress pants. While he wasn’t as toned as Antoine, it was obvious that he still took great care of his body but it was the sight of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his underwear that made him whimper. He suddenly needed to look away and he snapped his head back around to press his face into the soft bedspread, the tips of his ears burning when he heard Emmanuel laughing behind him, “You’re adorable when you act all shy, baby.” A grin grew on his face, but he kept it hidden away as he gave his hips a little shake. Emmanuel laughed once more and climbed onto the bed, towering above him. Antoine felt the nudge of Emmanuel’s cock against his ass when his nape was kissed. “I missed you so terribly much,” the older man whispered against his skin.</p><p>“Daddy...”</p><p>His backside was patted once, “Raise onto your knees, baby.” With a choked moan Antoine came after the request. He shifted onto his knees while he kept his head down on the mattress, thus presenting himself as much as it was only possible. Emmanuel hummed and ran his hands over Antoine’s back, his left thumb stopping at the patch that was covered by the second skin. “You got my handwriting tattooed on you, baby?” Antoine nodded, whimpered and craned his neck to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend. “Fuck, baby...”</p><p>“Do you like it, daddy?”</p><p>“I love it.”</p><p>Emmanuel brushed his lips over the small on Antoine’s back and the younger man’s breath hitched when first his right, then his left backside cheek was kissed as well. The lips felt cool against his scorchingly hot skin and even a touch as feathery as a kiss was painful. “Daddy-” He gasped in surprise when he felt a slick finger circling his whole - he hadn’t even heard the bottle of lube being opened. Two fingers were pushed into him, slowly but with determination and Antoine whimpered as he tried to relax as good as he only could.</p><p>“Look at you,” Emmanuel groaned, working his fingers deeper into Antoine. They were both panting, both eager to feel the other. Antoine’s hips twitched when the fingers pressed down onto his prostate and he moaned huskily, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked back at Emmanuel. “So beautiful, baby.” He was getting impatient, but Emmanuel always took his time to prepare him to minimise the risk of him getting hurt. Even if he had just spanked and paddled him. The spanking was a part of their game, him getting wounded during sex wasn’t. Emmanuel pulled his fingers out of him with an obscene squelch and used the excess lube to get his cock slick before he shuffled forward and aligned the head of it with Antoine’s entrance, “Ready, baby?”</p><p>“I...”</p><p>The nudging against his hole stopped, “Baby?”</p><p>“Can I... Can I ride you, daddy?”</p><p>Emmanuel moaned and caressed his ass before he plopped down onto his bed, “Fuck, of course. Come here baby, ride daddy.”</p><p>The grin that grew on Antoine’s face as he crawled on top of his boyfriend blurred borders with a ridiculous one and it only disappeared when he was pulled down into a kiss. “You have to let go of me if you want me to ride you,” he whispered after Emmanuel had kissed him for a good minute, “daddy.”</p><p>The older man grinned at him and removed his hands from his curls, instead resting them on Antoine’s waist as the younger reached around to align the head of Emmanuel’s cock which his hole, “Come on, baby. Show daddy how much you appreciate him.”</p><p>When Antoine gasped, it was as much due to Emmanuel’s words than the fact that he sank down the first few inches. His face was still wet with tears and he involuntarily clenched around the cock when Emmanuel brought one hand up to wipe at said wetness, his thumb stroking over Antoine’s bottom lip. He lowered himself down the length of Emmanuel’s cock though whimpered when his ass came in touch with his boyfriend’s pelvis, as he had, in the heat of the moment, forgotten just how sore it was.</p><p>Emmanuel chuckled, winked and patted his throbbing cheeks, “Such a naughty boy...”</p><p>Circling his hips, Antoine pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, “I’m a good boy, daddy.”</p><p>Emmanuel looked <em>so good</em>, with dark, hooded eyes and slightly parted lips. “Most of the time, yes,” the older man said, his voice thickly laced with arousal, “and if you’re naughty, I’ll just <em>spank</em> you for it every time.”</p><p>Antoine moaned lewdly, biting his lip at the playful smack he’d received and boucing as much as he could without putting too much pressure onto his ass. It were soft and gentle movements which the both of them made, something which could’ve seemed rather unfitting after such a scene, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Emmanuel’s eyes were soft, as were his hands and the thrusts of his hips and he felt his orgasm approaching at a steady pace. “I love you,” he breathed, taking his boyfriend’s right hand to press a kiss into the reddened palm. Emmanuel moaned and Antoine felt his cock twitching inside of him, his heart somersaulting when he let go of the hand but it stayed cupped against his cheek.</p><p>“I love you too, baby. Oh, how I love you...” Driven by his boyfriend’s words, Antoine sped up the movements of his hips and it took no longer than a few moments, and a rather hard clench around Emmanuel’s cock, until Emmanuel threw his head back and spilled his release inside of him. The feeling of it was enough to push him over the edge as well and he came with a moan that blurred borders with a sob, collapsing on top of the other man. “God, baby...”</p><p>Panting, they both took their time to ride out the waves of their orgasms while their hands stroked whatever they could reach of the other and once Antoine’s head stopped spinning, he climbed off Emmanuel and laid down beside him, “I’ll get a towel.” He merely hummed in acknowledgement and kept his eyes closed when his boyfriend climbed off the bed. Antoine was so happy, so thoroughly happy in that moment that he could’ve broken out into tears again. “Spread your legs, baby. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” A bit surprised that he hadn’t perceived Emmanuel being back so quickly, he obeyed and spread his legs apart. He gasped, and blushed, when he was cleaned and the towel chafed against his sore skin. “There’ll be bruises,” Emmanuel said, “but I didn’t break the skin.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Antoine slurred his reply, positively fucked out of his mind.</p><p>“I’ll put some lotion on it, okay?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>The pop of the lotion bottle’s cap resounded through the otherwise quiet room and he bit down on his lip to stop himself from groaning when the cool lotion was worked into his sore skin. Neither of them spoke when Emmanuel applied the lotion, set the bottle aside once he was done, laid back down beside Antoine and loosely traced the curve of the younger man’s spine, “Baby?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Was I... I wasn’t too harsh with you, was I?”</p><p>Antoine turned his head and cracked one eye open. The look of uncertainty on Emmanuel’s face surprised him. “Did I use our safeword? No,” he smiled, “you weren’t too harsh. I... enjoyed it a lot.” He allowed himself to be pulled into Emmanuel’s arms without a struggle and pressed his face into the side of his boyfriend’s neck when the clean one of his hands began to slowly caress his curls.</p><p>“I enjoyed it, too,” Emmanuel whispered into his hair, “though I should probably spank you for the tattoo alone.”</p><p>Antoine snorted, “Come on, we both know that you like it, Manu.”</p><p>“That’s right, but you were so <em>naughty</em> by not telling me beforehand.” He snorted once more and cuddled closer against the warm chest, muttering something under his breath. “What was that, baby?”</p><p>“Nothing, <em>daddy</em>.”</p><p>“Brat.”</p><p>“Love you too.”</p><p>
  <em>Fin.</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't believe I actually wrote this LMAO sorry y'all</p></blockquote></div></div>
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